hk diary ten - shamelessly seducing fate

"young, young man. did anyone ever tell you you look like a young prince out of the 'arabian nights'?" -- blanche dubois, a streetcar named desire.

i have always loved blanche dubois. i feel her -- delusional, living in her own private world, promiscuous yet pretends to be coy. even virginal. so gay!

last night, in late celebration of my forty third year on earth, i hopped from one bar to another even on a tight budget. luckily, like blanche, some kind strangers paid for my poisons for the night -- stella, lots of it, tequilla and mojito. no cosmo for this not so grand old dame, i reserve that for sinfully lonely nights. when the mean reds strike cruelly like a phantom without the opera. or too much of it. chos!

inside a bar where a filipino band was playing, i was surrounded by hong kong's young and beautiful, as though i had died and went straight to nirvana. naturally, the only thing to do was to sway to the beat of raining men, holiday, material girl, like it was the wild eightys and ninetys again. what can i say, the filipino band loved these songs as well.

then there was adelle, singing out her heartache in a sad, soulful, crystal clear voice. poetry, actually, masked behind a danceable tune -- rolling on the deep.

"the scars of your love, remind me of us

they keep me thinking that we almost had it all

the scars of your love, they leave me breathless
i can't help feeling

we could have had it all."

*****

so there i was, dancing along with the filipina singer. in total abandon, as if it was my last day on earth. as if the lovely angels would beacon me to leave this wonderful, smoky, dimly-lit bar full of sweaty, swarthy bodies, anytime. soon.

channeling adelle in splendid marc jacobs, i gyrated, shook my head, swayed my hips, jumped, kicked my feet. i didn't care. no it was not the alcohol dancing. it was just the little child in me, screaming silently, wanting to get out. and i let it. it's sexless. safe. only to be proven wrong later on. (so read on)

if you've seen your grandmother dancing while on acid with a bad military haircut, wearing dark jeans and tight-fitting black shirt, then subtract forty years and that's me. trying to seduce fate. shameless.

it was freezing outside, something something degrees, but inside it was hot as, forgive the french, hell. i was sweating even if i removed my jacket and scarf. i was tempted to dance bare naked, but the hong kong police might put me to jail. actually, it won't be such a bad idea. god knows this little island of glass and steel buildings and crazy, expensive luxuries needs some excitement from time to time. plus, you need to feed the hungry paparazzi from time to time to stay in their good graces. (in my previous life, i did. i paid for it dearly. feeding the paparazzi frenzy, i mean!)

then a young man bumped into me. he was on his way to the back of the bar where the toilet was. he looked at me, smiled and apologized. i didn't hear him too well because of the loud music, but i could read his pouty lips -- sorry. i smiled and winked.

it was a brief interaction. but his face -- smooth, cappuccino skin, well chiseled nose, tiny pouty lips -- stayed. played to the beat. i kept on dancing. the singer smiled too, noticing how i reacted to that almost dream like scene. short. sweet. ephemeral (sorry, i so totally love this word. i have to use it).

when he passed by again from the toilet, he stopped right in front of me, stood so close i could almost swallow his cigarette breath. then he danced. slow, gentle, sexy.

then he held me at the back and we swayed together, two lonely shadows merged into the night. he must be the dark angel sent to fetch me back to hell.

*****

adelle kept on. the soundtrack of the night. of my night.

"there's a fire starting in my heart,

reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark......."

then he kissed me, on the neck. i pushed him gently. i didn't want a scandal on the dance floor (as if my dancing was not scandalous enough).

"this isn't volume," i told him, my lips on his right ear. (volume was a famous gay bar in hong kong, though most nights, because the music was divine and the habitues were glorious, the crowd was mixed -- men, women, fairies.)

"it doesn't matter. we are just kissing."

(i wanted to correct him: technically, we are not kissing. you are kissing me. there's a difference. but i dare not say it. too afraid to ruin a promising encounter.)

his accent was different. not chinese. not english. not american. he looked latino though. but i did not ask. there was plenty of time for that.

"how young are you?"

"guess."

"sixteen?"

"close."

"i don't want to go to jail for seducing a minor."

"i am old enough, don't worry."

"i'm thirsty," i said, wanting a beer.

"me too."

then he dragged me out of the dance floor to the back of the bar. holding me tightly, he led me away. i followed like a strayed cat. even having cat thoughts -- there is milk at the end of a dark tunnel. meoww. we ended up inside a room that was a bit dark, if not for a glimmer of light coming from a small window. it was full of beer bottles and cans, wine bottles, etc. no, the etc here is irrelevant.

"are you..."

"shhh.."

"sure you want.."

kisses. hands all over. then the zippers went down. more touching. fondling. slow, deep breaths. careless. abandoned. hot burger sizzling in the oven. then rain. hot water from the sky. fluid, graceful movements in the dark. poetry of lust.

i could still hear adelle even if the door was shut. even when we were miles away from the dance floor. we were in another planet. entirely ours. an island with no sharks. starless, but not bleak.

"you had my heart inside your hand

and you played it

to the beat..."

this time though, adelle sounded cheerful. as if she could feel what i was feeling, hear my empty thoughts. feel my secret longings now being fulfilled.

lips, his. burning. hands, now clumsy, now keeping me closer. his hands still smelled of penhaligon liquid soap and cigarettes. resting on my head. my knees on the cold, damp floor. there was a long, hard log in front of me. surrounded by grass, rooted deeply into the earth. it smelled of the earth too. but it was a lovely, manly scent. the scent of life, fire, desire. the log was hungry, thirsty. alive. shaking to my every stroke. 

his hands, soft and huge, kept pulling me closer to it. deeper. deeper. adelle vanished. moans. more. there. yes! bliss.

then we switched positions. my back, slammed on the wall. cold. lovely. 

his hands. on my butt. my hands. on his head. i touched his soft, smooth hair. his warm lips on my soul. then his mouth. eager. hungry. feeding. like a fish. my log on his mouth, soft, slippery and wet.

then i exploded like a million cannons on new year's eve. 

jack kerouac's on the road suddenly came into my mind:

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” 

%%%%%%%%%

adelle. came. back. sharing my bliss.

"rolling in the deep

you had my heart inside your hand

and you played it

to the beat



we could have had it all

rolling in the deep

you had my heart inside your hand


but you played it
"

then the strong smell of the sea filled the room.

we went back inside the bar. it looked different now. more alive. from the eyes of a newly fed vampire. everything seemed to move, even the black and white pictures on the wall, the candles on the tiny square tables, the glasses and bottles on the shelves. (yes, these lines were inspired by anne rice. so don't fret. i admit. i am a literary thief. but who isn't? at least my thoughts were original. haha.)

******

three a.m. the bar was still full. adelle had stopped playing.

i heard blanche. in a hungry, sleepy, tired but still seductive voice.

"i don't want realism. i want magic! yes, yes, magic. i try to give that to people. i do misrepresent things. i don't tell truths. i tell what ought to be truth."

we stepped out of the bar, sharing  a bottle of stella on the street. there were a dozen or so strangers. smoking. talking. laughing. dancing. it was cold. his hand was locked on my shoulder. i felt safe. protected.

bottle in hand, he said: "i lost my virginity to adelle."

"you mean it was your first time to be blowed over?"

he smiled. i love his lips. thinking about where they had been made my knees weak. made me crave for more. ah, i was insatiable.

"no."

"then what?"

"it was my first time to give a head."

i smiled. took the bottle from his hand and drank it.

then his phone rang.

he talked -- in spanish. he spoke fast. i couldn't understand a thing.

then: "i have to go." to me.

"why?"

"that's my mom."

"but."

"it's late. i have to go home."

"what's your name?"

"angelo."

seriously? but i didn't say it.

"can i have your number?''

"you're mahatma gandah right?"

"yes, how did you know."

"my friend who was with me earlier knows you. he used to work in a bar in lan kwai 

fong where you always hang out."

"what's his name."

"sebastian."

seriously? again, i did not ask. how did they come up with such fancy names? or their parents? they must be writers. fantastic writers. for coming up with such names and for freeing into the earth such beautiful children.

sebastian. angelo. i can't remember meeting a sebastian. maybe i forgot about him.

"i have to go." then he kissed me again. on the lips. right there on the street. in full view of the world. chos!

then i remember he hasn't given me his number yet.

"your number."

"don't worry. i will see you again."

"where? how?"

"i will." 

fade to black.i went inside. still in a daze. my body still trembling. burning. this time it was madonna's turn to serenade the slowly disappearing darkness- like a virgin.

luvly!

******

(yes i am turning a new leaf. i am now in the mood to have fun noting that my expiry date is about to come. actually, i am past my expiry date. i am now, officially, unfit for human consumption. a health hazard. anyone who touches me will have to call the department of health and sanitation for a medical exam. you see, i had a bargain with god when i was fifteen, when i almost died of a disease -- i was sickly when i was young -- to let me live until forty and after that, he can do whatever he wants to do with me. turn me into a nun, a frog, a rose, or heck, even a fly. who cares. that's why i have been so careless with everything -- luvlife, finances, relationships -- because i know in due time, all of these will be taken away. no hard feelings, but that's the truth. if you don't believe me, then you are as delusional as blanche. i luv!)

******

here is adelle, by the way. if you care.

(ps: i don't own the photos in this post. no copyright infringements intended. please inform the author if you want them removed. than you.)